


Gradual Development

by havetaoque



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Chess, Iron Man 1, Kid Tony Stark, Long-game, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havetaoque/pseuds/havetaoque
Summary: Tony gets an important life lesson at age five, but it takes another thirty-three years before he gets it.





	Gradual Development

_May 1975: Stark Manor, New York State_

“It’s all psychology, little one.” Tony rolled the black queen between his thumb and forefinger and glanced back at the board, studying the little pieces arrayed across the squares. Uncle Obadiah said it was a battlefield. Strategy. You had to think ahead of your opponent and anticipate his moves. Tony looked at the neat row of white pieces in front of his father. Howard moved one of his pawns forward carelessly and sipped his cognac. Obadiah moved his knight and turned to Tony again. “Now, what should your daddy do?”

Tony shrugged and said, “There’s four hundred possible positions now. I don’t know.”

Obadiah smiled thinly. “That’s right, Tony. But there’s more to it than just knowing potentialities. Now, my queen?”

Tony handed him the piece. Obadiah plucked her by the neck from Tony’s outstretched hand and settled her back on the board, flanked by her bishop and king.

“Run along, son,” Howard muttered, studying the game. “I can see Obie here is playing to win.”

“I always play to win,” Obadiah said with a smile and a laugh, “but I like to enjoy myself too. Lighten up, Howie, it’s just a game.” He took a sip of his scotch and Howard shook his head, chuckling, and advanced another pawn.

 _Five thousand three hundred sixty-two_ , Tony thought. _It just gets more complicated the longer you play._ Then he left the room in search of Jarvis. Jarvis promised he’d put red frosting on Tony’s birthday cake.

 

* * *

 

_December 17, 1991_

“I’m so sorry, Tony.”

“It’s not your fault, Obie.”

The apartment was littered with empty bottles.

“I’ll have someone clean this up. You ought to come back to the mansion, son.”

 

* * *

 

_Seventeen years later_

“Fuck.” 

 

He felt his heart stop and knew there had been well over ten million possible ways his life could have gone. Of course he'd ended up with this one. Or maybe they all led to this white couch.

 


End file.
